At the Atavist Hospital.
After examining Qiu Fa’s injuries, the doctor stood in shock. Looking at Qiu Fa’s calm, impassive face, a wave of respect washed over him.
He pulled the dislocated and broken bones out from inside the internal organs, reset them one by one, disinfected the torn organs gouged by the jagged bones, and sprayed them with flesh-regeneration liquid to let the tissues heal on their own.
By the time the doctors finished treating every wound, two full hours had passed. In the dead of winter, sweat soaked through their gowns.
“Alright. Fortunately, your heart remained untouched,” the doctor said, letting out a long breath.
“Thank you,” Qiu Fa replied.
“You’re welcome, Director Qiu. We know your body heals far faster than normal people’s, but you must stay in bed for at least eight hours. Avoid any strenuous movement for the next two days.”
“Understood.”
Qiu Fa was no reckless child; he knew the importance of following medical advice and rested obediently in the hospital bed.
Yet sleep eluded him that night. Though physical exhaustion weighed on his body, his mind raced, replaying every moment of the battle… over and over until it settled on the image of Jing Pei throwing her arms around him.
She was the mysterious Information Broker, so she must have had urgent business when she left so hastily. Still… couldn’t she spare a moment to send a single text?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, his phone buzzed in his hand.
A strong instinct told him who it was. He picked it up immediately—it was indeed Jing Pei.
Jing Pei lay beside Min Yue. Min Yue had already drifted into a peaceful, snoring sleep, but Jing Pei remained wide awake. Partly to stay guard against the rebellious Plot, and partly because she kept recalling the forlorn look in Qiu Fa’s eyes when she turned down his unspoken plea for company. The more she thought about it, the more pitiful he seemed.
She picked up her phone and sent a message:
[Have your wounds been treated? What did the doctor say?]
Qiu Fa quickly typed out [I’m fine]. But right before sending it, he paused. A strange, awkward impulse took over. He deleted the draft and typed a new message:
[The doctor said I’m tough. Surprised I’m still breathing.]
Jing Pei’s brows knit together. She sat up in bed.
[Are the injuries that bad?]
[Not too bad. Just a few broken bones and punctured organs.]
Not too bad? Even for a high-tier Atavist, damage like that was severe. Anyone with weaker regenerative powers would have died on the spot.
Jing Pei wanted to start a video call, but she worried about waking Min Yue, who had suffered through three exhausting time loops. She abandoned the idea, wishing tomorrow would come faster so she could see Qiu Fa.
[Then take your medicine and stay in bed, alright?]
Sensing her worry through the screen, the corners of Qiu Fa’s lips curved upward. He only wanted a bit of comfort, not to cause her genuine distress.
[I took it. I’m lying down now, following doctor’s orders.]
[Good. Go to sleep early.] Jing Pei refrained from mentioning his birthday, fearing something unexpected might delay her arrival tomorrow and leave him waiting in vain.
[Okay. You too.]
Once she knew Jing Pei wouldn’t send any more messages, Qiu Fa set his phone aside, closed his eyes, and quickly drifted off to sleep.
Jing Pei put her phone down, then paused. She picked it back up to scroll through their chat history. Qiu Fa was a hardened, stoic man with the secretive nature of a big cat. When wounded, he would retreat to his own apartment to lick his wounds in solitude rather than complain to anyone.
Yet he had laid out his injuries to her. He did it on purpose.
Was he… acting cute?
A smile tugged at the corners of Jing Pei’s mouth. She pictured his poker face hiding an awkward, proud expression, and found the mental image charming.
She really wanted to see him soon.
The weather on the eighteenth remained gloomy. Overcast clouds hung heavy in the sky, keeping the city dark as night well into late morning.
Following doctor’s orders, Qiu Fa waited eight hours before leaving the hospital to recover at home. Madam President called his phone.
“We found the source of General Wan’s poison. His house nanny put something into the herbal medicine he drinks every day. Her excuse matches the drivers from last night’s accidents.”
The drivers claimed they had suffered a sudden lapse of judgment. The nanny gave the exact same excuse, adding that after the moment passed, she wasn’t even sure if she had actually added anything to the brew. Terrified and hoping for the best, she had kept quiet. Every single suspect passed the lie detector test, proving none of them were lying outright.
“We tested the willpower values of the drivers, the nanny, and General Wan after his poisoning. Every single one fell between three and five.”
Ten was the highest score. A rating from three to five meant an average person—someone who probably wouldn’t commit terrible acts alone, but might still hesitate when tempted enough. A score of ten was for people who would never give in, even under severe torture.
However, willpower was not a fixed stat; it could crack under strain or spike to its peak under extreme circumstances.
General Wan’s willpower had originally been much higher. To control him, the hidden force had taken a roundabout path—poisoning him first until pain brought him near unconsciousness, breaking down his mental defenses before taking control in an instant to make him press the launch button.
“This unseen enemy can only briefly influence or control those whose willpower stays below five.”
Qiu Fa scoffed. “A pathetic, cowardly trick.”
Madam President blinked, then nodded in agreement. “Indeed. It lacks any real substance.”
Weak as the ability seemed, it could cause immense havoc at critical moments. Without the timely intervention of Jing Pei and Feng Yilian last night, casualties would have reached staggering numbers. Yet as an ability, it relied entirely on cheap, covert schemes.
Rumble—
A loud crash of thunder shook the sky as if venting boundless wrath. Lightning flashed after lightning, thunder echoing in sequence, yet beyond startling unprepared bystanders, it accomplished nothing.
“How did this entity manage it? Does the Organization possess power beyond Atavist energy? Otherwise, why couldn’t our detectors pick up a single Atavist wave from these incidents?”
This mystery posed as great a threat as their ability to open dimensional rifts.
“This crisis is unlike anything we have faced. Rest well and recover. Hualan needs you.”
“Understood.”
“Good. I will leave you to rest.” Madam President hung up. Her schedule was packed with calls to world leaders; this crisis was not Hualan’s alone to bear, nor could one nation solve it in isolation.
An Yan arrived at the hospital to pick up Qiu Fa.
“To the apartment,” Qiu Fa commanded.
“Director, wouldn’t the dormitory be better? It would be easier for us to take care of you there.”
“No need.”
“Alright.” An Yan wasn’t surprised. Qiu Fa had always been like this—the more hurt he was, the more he wanted to be alone and avoid visitors. That was just how a big cat acted.
Lightning cracked across the sky as the rebellious Plot flew into a rage. It had been mocked! Mocked by Qiu Fa as pathetic and coward! Where were his manners? Who did these characters think they were? They were mere fictional creations in a book! Granted, it remained weak right now, but once the story reached its conclusion, everything would change. Then they would learn the true meaning of death!
Yet the humiliation burned deep. And the ones responsible for its current misery were Jing Pei and her female lead, Min Yue!
The Plot locked its focus back onto the Long Estate.
However, Jing Pei maintained an ironclad defense. Chu Xusheng personally guarded Min Jing and Min Yue’s friends, while Jing Pei stayed at Min Jing and Min Yue’s side every second. The Plot found no opening all day, knowing any hasty move would easily be exposed.
It decided to give up on this attempt and move on.
It had planned to drop the matter, but Qiu Fa’s insults rankled in its chest! It needed an outlet for its rage. Why should it be the only one suffering?
It was past ten in the evening, closing in on the hour of Qiu Fa’s death in the original novel. Jing Pei set down her piping bag. Min Yue ran over and said, “Ah Jin, my mom’s fever went down a bit. We want to go home; she can’t rest well away from her own bed.”
Min Jing had caught a chill in the rain the night before. Upon waking in the morning, a mild fever had quickly escalated into a high fever by afternoon before anyone noticed her illness.
Jing Pei nodded. “After eleven, I will have someone drive you back to Nevergone District.”
Min Yue nodded happily, then glanced at the cake on the table, licking her lips. Though the decorating looked somewhat casual, the thick white cream and colorful fruits looked delicious—and Jing Pei had made it with her own hands!
Jing Pei hardened her heart. “It’s for a friend’s birthday today.”
“Huh? But it’s almost eleven. Who gets a birthday cake this late?”
“The person I like.”
“Oh, the person you—LIKE??” Min Yue’s eyes went wide, and her curiosity flared instantly. “Who is it? What do they look like? How old are they? How did you meet? When did this happen?”
Jing Pei stuffed a cake made by the household chef into her hands, ushering her back to her mother’s room to finally quiet her ears.
Jing Pei packed the birthday cake, calculating the situation in her mind. No suspicious incidents had occurred all day. If the rebellious Plot possessed any intelligence, it wouldn’t waste effort on useless attempts; preparing its next move should be its top priority, and the Plot was certainly intelligent enough to know that.
Still, nothing was absolute. She would wait until eleven o’clock—the moment of Qiu Fa’s death in the original book—had safely passed before letting her guard down.
As the thought crossed her mind, Jing Pei suddenly froze. A sharp sense of danger spiked in her heart. Wait… when she gave Min Yue the cake just now, what had Min Yue taken with her?
On the other side of the residence.
Min Yue entered Min Jing’s room, holding the cake in one hand and a shiny silver fork in the other. The guards at the door saw her and let her pass.
Min Jing leaned against the headboard, reviewing work files on her phone. Development in Nevergone District had just begun, leaving endless tasks to manage. As a dedicated leader, Min Jing found it hard to step away, picking up her work the moment her strength returned.
“Mom, Ah Jin said she’ll send us back in a bit.”
“Good.”
“You’re working again. Please, you’re sick, can’t you rest properly?”
“Just a moment, let me finish this document.” Min Jing didn’t raise her head. Her head felt heavy, but she pushed through to finish reading.
“Hurry up, I’m watching you.” Min Yue sat at the edge of the bed, eating cake while keeping an eye on her mother’s phone.
Because her attention was on the phone, Min Yue failed to notice Min Jing suddenly shudder as if struck by an invisible force. Min Jing’s eyes snapped shut, and when they opened again, they were filled with sheer terror. Before Min Yue could react, her mother snatched the fork from her hand.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Min Jing drove the fork straight toward Min Yue’s neck.
In Min Jing’s hallucinating eyes, the person before her was not her daughter, but a vicious monster pinning her child down, opening its jaws to tear into her flesh. She didn’t even have time to scream; maternal instinct surged through her, transforming a simple utensil into a deadly weapon.
“Get off my daughter!”
Taken completely off guard, Min Yue froze, her breath catching in her throat as the sharp prongs came inches from piercing her neck.
A hand clamped down around Min Jing’s wrist, stopping the strike. Only the tips of the fork grazed the surface of Min Yue’s skin, drawing a tiny drop of blood.
“Auntie,” Jing Pei called out softly.
Min Jing blinked, her mind clearing in an instant. Horrified by the scene before her, she dropped the fork immediately. “How…? What… what was I doing?”
“Mom, it’s okay,” Min Yue said, her face pale. Words rang hollow against the trauma of a mother nearly taking her child’s life, unable to soothe the shock in the room.
Jing Pei’s eyes darkened with anger. The rebellious Plot refused to go down quietly, pulling such a malicious scheme right at the end—forcing a mother to attack her own child.
Eleven o’clock arrived. The original time of Qiu Fa’s death passed, and the threads of fate shifted permanently. The sky grew quiet, signaling that the outcome was set in stone.
Though the Plot knew the attempt would fail to alter the outcome, causing distress to Jing Pei and Min Yue gave it a petty sense of satisfaction.
Jing Pei arranged for escorts to take the residents of Nevergone District home. Min Yue still trembled with anger. Even though she hadn’t died and time rewinds would erase Min Jing’s memory of the event, the memory of her mother’s despair upon waking from the trance burned in Min Yue’s chest.
Jing Pei squeezed her hand tightly. “We will settle this score.”
Min Yue nodded fiercely. “I’m holding a grudge against this thing for life!”
“Go on, comfort your mother and assure her this won’t happen again,” Jing Pei said gently.
“Mm!” Min Yue wiped her nose, climbed into the car, and watched the vehicle pull away into the night.
Jing Pei cast a cold glance at the quiet night sky, then picked up the cake box and set off to find Qiu Fa.
